Page 36 of For the Love of Layla

Which means she’s here.

I smirk, remembering how she tasted on my tongue the last time I saw her, saw her up close, that is. I don’t mind making the drive out to her house to watch her from the woods. She rarely closes the curtains, even now. As much as she tries to deny it, she likes that I’m watching her. The fear, the adrenaline she feels… my sweet little star gets off on it.

“Hey, I think they’re ready for our welcoming speech, you coming?” Brandon asks, sticking his head into my dimly lit office.

“Have you seen her yet?” I don’t bother hiding the tension in my voice as we walk out into the hallway. These floors are empty at night if we aren’t working. The music from the gala tunneling up the elevator shaft from the second floor.

He groans, “Yes, but please don’t do any creepy shit, not tonight.”

“I’m not creepy. I’m invested.” I deadpan, knowing damn well I’m a little creepy.

“Remind me why we’re friends again?” He asks as he tightens his man bun on the top of his head. Shifting uncomfortably in the steamed dark gray suit, they aren’t really his thing. Never have been.

“Neither of us plays well with others and it beats being alone.”

He chuckles as we step into the sleek elevator, my pulse racing. If things go sideways tonight, I can always move onto Plan B. The upper floors are abandoned, and I know she came alone. Ava would be easy enough to deal with afterwards. I’m not against Layla having friends as long as they don’t take up too much of her time. The elevator doors slide open, and I can’t begin to hide the smile on my face. Layla looks just as perfect as I knew she would in that dress. I had it custom made for her after all. Her curves hugged perfectly by the delicate fabric; her curly long hair braided down her back as she sips champagne, her red lipstick staining the glass. The red not only suits her but it’s a warning… one she apparently didn’t hear loudly enough. I take a deep breath, eyes narrowing on the man she’s talking to, that uncomfortable heat filling my chest.

What are they talking about? He’s standing close, too fucking close.

Brandon breaks my attention from her, clearing his throat as he motions to the stage. I give him a slight nod before gesturing to a waitress to come over, “The woman in the silk red dress, see her?” The small blonde woman nods, her large green eyes glued to my lips. “The man she’s talking to, spill something on him.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she chuckles. Quickly realizing I’m serious she stops immediately, glancing down at the tray of cocktails she’s holding.

“We’re old friends, it’s fine. I’m Mr. Curran. I hired the company you work for.”

“Oh, Mr. Curran, I’m sorry. I’ll uhm…yeah okay, is there anything else I should say?”

I smile down at her, watching her round face light up before I push a blonde strand from her eyes, “Not a word.” She bites down on her lip before nodding and heading that way. I grind my teeth as I head towards the stage, wiping my hand on my pants. The idea of touching another woman makes me sick. All I want is Layla. Ruining his suit doesn’t feel like an effective enough punishment for the way he looked at my little star, but can’t be killing off benefactors. Tonight has to be perfect. I smile again as I hear clattering dishes and the blonde’s rapid fire apologies behind me. I slip my hand into my pocket, making sure for the hundredth time tonight that I have everything I need.

Tonight is the first major step towards the rest of our lives, little star. Are you ready for me?

Chapter nine

The Gala

Layla

Calm down, you are ready for this.

That’s what I tell myself as I watch Liam give his speech, the way he moves across the stage…his smile. I’m only vaguely aware of what he’s saying, much less Brandon standing next to him. I got to know Brandon relatively well while I was with Liam, mostly because he was just always around. He seems to understand him in a way I can’t. Their relationship is more like brothers than friends. I know they grew up together but after that, not a lot. Liam never liked to talk about his childhood, only now do I understand why. Witnessing a suicide…it must’ve been awful for him. The article said his nanny had become obsessed with the family. When she was let go, she jumped.

Standing here staring up at him, I feel even more guilty for requesting the case file on her death and suspecting him in all of this mess. I suck in a sharp breath as he meets my eyes, his bottomless blues looking even brighter underneath the lights. He gives me a small smirk, one that sends heat to my core and jump-starts my wary heart. I can hear my phone vibrating in my bag. I know it’shim.Yet the man on stage isn’t using a phone, of course there are ways around that. Hence why I came tonight. I remember last year they started the charity auction shortly after the first speeches, so that will be the perfect time to slip away.

Hopefully.

If I get caught, God forbid by Liam, I have no clue how he’ll react. I never knew how he’d react to anything. The smallest, oddest things would set him off, though he seemed endlessly patient with me apart from where other people were involved. If I looked in the direction of another man for too long, if I didn’t answer his texts or calls fast enough. He tried to play it off, but I could tell how much it bothered him. Those are just some of the more mundane ones. I jump as the room erupts in applause, downing my second glass of champagne before joining in.

Pacing myself would probably be the best plan of action, but without the liquid courage I will one hundred percent bitch out.

My heart races as he makes his way through the crowd chatting and shaking hands, all the while his eyes set on me. A blip of panic sears up from deep in my gut.

Which is nothing new.

Ifhesees Liam speaking to me, there’s no telling what he’d do. Is he even here? Would I recognize him if he was? I lower my head and then abruptly make a break for it like the coward I am. Heading back towards the bar. I’m not ready to talk to him yet, if my raging heart and sweaty palms are any indication. I nearly jump out of my skin as I bump into the slender frame of an older woman.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” I apologize.

“You look familiar. Have we met?”

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